


Weight of the World

by Jenshih_Blue



Series: Open the Door ~ A Modern Day Fairy Tale in 13 Parts [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 17:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue





	

Weeks had passed; neither of them touching after Dean had come back. They never spoke of that night, but Sam thought of it more and more often. He missed waking to find himself wrapped protectively in Dean’s arms, the scent of sex heavy in the air from the night before. He hadn’t wanted it to end like this, but it had, and now there was no going back to the way it had been before they’d found comfort in each other’s arms.

Sam took the blame for it all, yet Dean was the one who carried the weight of what had been on his shoulders. With each passing day, Sam could see the weight dragging Dean down. This was his fault, he thought. He’d offered Dean the world with one kiss and for a while, things had been good, and then John had died.

Instead of understanding why Dean was drowning himself slowly in whatever hard liquor he could find, he’d lost himself in his own anger. How dare their father leave them? How dare he sacrifice himself and leave Sam to pick up the pieces of his brother? Nevertheless, he hadn’t—had he? Instead, he’d pushed Dean away and now there was just the hunt, but it wasn’t the same.

All these weeks they’d been moving on automatic, doing what they had to, yet Sam wasn’t sure if they would survive—that Dean would survive.

They were in New England somewhere, although if you’d asked Sam he wouldn’t have been able to tell you where. Just the week before they’d saved a little girl and her mother from the lost spirit of the mother’s long dead aunt, an aunt that she’d never known. Despite everything they’d been through at this point, Sam still knew that Dean loved him. He just like Sam himself though didn’t know how to make it better.

Sam had been nursing a cold after his dive into the pool; he refused to give into it, though. Therefore, when he woke to find the car parked at the side of the road and Dean’s rough calloused hand on his cheek he wondered if he woke at all. He’d been having some strange dreams since the cold had settled in for the long haul.

Blinking he tried to focus on Dean’s face, but everything was blurry, his eyes burning and itching with a ferocity. He opened his mouth to ask where they were, but instead, a rough wet cough exploded from him, one that made him believe his spine had ripped from his body.

“Jesus, Sammy, you’re fucking burning up.” 

Dean ’s face swam into focus for a moment and he could see the fear in Dean’s eyes. Another cough ripped through his body and he sniffled, his head stopped up, and he began shaking uncontrollably. Through chattering teeth, he managed to say one word. “Cold…”

Turning back to the windshield, Dean shifted the car into drive and pulled back onto the highway with a soft curse. “Probably have pneumonia you stupid bastard.”

***

The next few days were a blur of aching muscles, vicious coughs, and vomiting. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew something was changing. 

Dean sat with him through the worst of the fever, reading to him until the drugs pulled him down into sleep, and then when he opened his eyes Dean was still there. He tried not to move, as he lay there, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, his gaze never leaving his brother. Dean was slumped in a chair, chin resting on his chest, and his fingers clinging loosely to the book he’d been reading. His chest rose and fell with each breath he took, and for Sam that was the moment, exhausted and weak, as he was, that he decided it was his turn to carry the burden.

Since that night when Mary had died, Dean had carried a burden no child should have had to carry. Tears burned his eyes as he remembered bits and pieces of their childhood; a twelve-year-old Dean standing at an ancient stove warming up a can of ravioli, his brother reading him bedtime stories, and the first time Dean had killed to protect him. Dean had done so much had given so much just to give him a chance to be safe and normal.

“Sammy?”

Blinking back the tears, Sam offered Dean a weak smile. “Better…” he croaked through a throat raw from coughing.

A tiny frown creased Dean’s brow as he stood, setting the book aside, and moved to sit next to Sam on the bed. Leaning over he pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead, then drew back the frown melting away to be replaced by a relieved smile. “Looks like the fever finally broke.”

Sam studied his brother’s expression for a moment and then frowned. “Why do you do that?”

“What?” Dean questioned as one eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

“That kiss thing?” Sam croaked out, shifting beneath the covers.

Dean ’s cheeks flushed a faint pink as he looked down, picking at his nails, “Mom.” He whispered softly. 

A frown drew Sam’s eyebrows together. Dean rarely spoke of their mother, but when he did, Sam relished it as if Dean’s words were a fine wine, “Mom?”

Nodding, Dean released a soft breath. “Right before she died…I got sick. I remember her doing that to check my temperature. Her lips were so…soft and cool.”

Sam reached out, his hand sliding over Dean’s, stilling the faint tremble of his fingers. “You know it’s okay to talk about her, man. I don’t remember her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss her.”

With a faint sigh, Dean lifted his head meeting Sam’s gaze. “Sam…I…”

Pushing up on his elbows, he pressed his lips to the corner of Dean’s mouth, and then pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry about what you’ve had to carry inside you. Please…” he nuzzled Dean’s jaw, eyes drifting shut, “…let me carry the weight now.”

Beneath his cheek, he could feel the muscle twitch in Dean’s jaw and for a moment he thought Dean would pull away. Instead, Dean pulled him closer, clinging to him as if he were a life preserver, whispering in his ear. “I missed you, Sammy. I’m so tired.”

“I know…I know, big brother.”


End file.
